Flash Fiction, Shorts

The Fourth

Burn. He thought as he lit the match. A flickering spark popped into existence.

The crowd fell silent. All around, blank faces with hungry eyes waited, watching. A little boy picked his nose. A dog barked.

It all happened at once. Suddenly a bright red flash filled the night sky, and the light reflected off of the faces of everyone sitting in the grass. A smaller blue one exploded right after it. The light from the fireworks faded from the sky, but lingered behind closed eyes.

Then he lit them all, and a multitude of explosions cracked through the sky. The colors were magnificent. Yellow and purple danced in the air together, and small green sparks flickered and shone. A golden crackling cascade showered above them all, and under it, giant red bursts of fire filled the air.

It was over all too soon, and everyone walked in a crowd to their cars, and drove in long lines back to their homes. He was the only one who stayed, standing in the grass and watching, where for a few short moments he had made the night sky dance.

For a few short moments, he had felt like a god.

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